


origins of trust

by catsnkooks



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Porn With Plot, Princess reader, Sort Of, dark mando, mand'alor din djarin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:34:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29012127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsnkooks/pseuds/catsnkooks
Summary: Din Djarin, Mand’alor, the most ruthless man in the outer rim; the man you are set to marry. After taking back his ancestral lands, he seeks an alliance with your planet, Camipra, a small farming planet, in order for his people to prosper. In return, your people will receive protection from pirates that plague you relentlessly, along with an edge for more trade with larger planets. A marriage alliance is the easiest way, and you are more than willing to do your duty for your people. However, trust is hard to come by from a man so used to living on the edge.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You
Comments: 28
Kudos: 135





	origins of trust

**Author's Note:**

> many thanks to auty-ren for dark mando inspo
> 
> edited to add: the only thing abt reader that i describe is her hair. she comes from a culture where long hair is custom/tradition. I've left this as open as possible for all hair types, but if you feel I've done something wrong please tell me!!

The sleek spacecraft hovered above the landing pad, the wind from its engines making your dress flap and your smaller hairs not pinned back flutter around your face. It landed smoothly on the platform and a moment later the ramp descended. The sound of boots clunking off the metal ramp announced the arrival of the man you were set to marry.

He was just as imposing in real life as he was in the holopics you had viewed for months. A fur-lined cape draped over broad shoulders made broader by the thick woolen tunic and golden beskar pauldrons. Simple leather pants and sturdy leather boots interspersed with protective, gold-plated beskar armor. And finally, his belt; leather, again, carved with interlocking patterns with a holster on which hung the hilt of the darksaber, his claim to the Mandalorian throne.

“Greetings, _Mand’alor_ ,” your father said, bowing at the waist. “Welcome to Camipra. May I introduce my daughter, the princess?”

You curtseyed low. “ _Mand’alor_.”

The _Mand’alor_ bowed his head to you, the impassive, silver helmet not giving away anything, but said nothing. A man of few words, indeed.

“Please,” your father continued, “follow us.” He turned and walked toward the palace.

You turned as well, pausing as someone stepped into your periphery. The _Mand’alor_ positioned himself beside you, holding out his hand. You gazed at his hand for a moment, your lips parting in surprise, before placing your hand in his. His fingers enveloped yours in warmth, seeping through the leather of his glove.

And so, you walked hand in hand up the palace steps with the man you were set to marry.

\---

“I don’t like this.”

You smiled into the mirror at Mawi. Her dark eyes glittered with worry and you could tell she’d been frustrated as the perfectly gelled baby hairs around her forehead had shifted in their position.

“You haven’t said anything else for the past _month_ ,” you teased gently. You didn’t want to upset her—you were touched that she cared so much about you. But you were getting tired of repeating yourself.

You wanted this, you truly did. With your marriage to the _Mand’alor_ , the most powerful man in your sector, you would bring safety and peace to Camipra. As part of your marriage agreement to the _Mand’alor_ , he promised a third of his fighting corps as protection for the palace and the farming districts. No longer would your people be easy prey for pirates and other criminals, with the threat of swift retribution from Mandalore looming over them.

Chme, your other handmaiden, smiled reassuringly at Mawi. “But we will be there for her, every step of the way.” She squeezed your shoulder, her amber eyes glittering with care.

Mawi twisted her lips in a grimace, but nodded. “I still don’t like it, but there is not much he will be able to do to keep me from you.”

You took their hands in both of yours, comforted by their care and loyalty to you. “I don’t know what I would do without the two of you. Now, go, we have a big day tomorrow.” They bowed then left the room.

You sighed and made for your bed, slipping your robe off your shoulders, leaving you in a thin nightgown. A big day tomorrow, indeed.

A sound at the door of your balcony snapped you out of your thoughts. You tiptoed over to it, your heart hammering in your chest, and peeked through a small crack in the door. Then, you gasped and stepped back.

“ _Mand’alor_!” you exclaimed. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

The _Mand’alor_ inclined his helmeted head to you, the same as he’d done when you first met. “May I come in?” His voice was softer than you expected, gruffer through the vocoder of his helmet.

“Oh, um, of course.” You opened the door wider for him to step through. It wouldn’t be at all proper for him to be here, right now, but you were to marry him tomorrow so it was all right…right?

His presence filled the room. Now that you had time to study him in the dim light of your room, you took in just how impossibly _broad_ his shoulders were. He stood close enough to you that you could feel his warmth from beneath the armor he still wore, and it made your breath hitch.

“May I ask…why you are here, _Mand’alor_?” you asked, avoiding looking directly at him. You hoped he wouldn’t notice your flushed state.

“I wanted to see you,” he said. “Before tomorrow.”

Your brow wrinkled and you turned to look into his visor. “Why?”

“To know what you are like.” He raised a gloved hand to your cheek, touching it briefly, and then it moved to the back of your neck, hovering over your hair that rested in a heavy braid down your back. “May I?”

You nodded, touched by his thoughtfulness. “You may.”

His hand cupped your braid, bringing it over your shoulder so he could run his gloved fingers down it. “It’s very beautiful.”

“I have saved it for you.” After tomorrow, everything about you would belong to him. From that point forward, only he could touch your hair.

He hummed, seeming satisfied. His and moved back to touch your cheek, and then moved down to your lips. He traced the outline of your lips with a knuckle. He was quiet for a moment, seeming lost in thought. “Close your eyes,” he whispered.

Confused, you closed your eyes. Then, you heard the mechanical sound of a clasp being undone and felt hot breath on your face. His thumb pressed into your bottom lip and you parted them with a sigh. Then, he pressed his warm lips to yours.

You gasped, surprised, and your hands flew up to grasp at his tunic underneath his chest plate. His lips molded against yours, as if he were eating you up, leaving you breathless. A hand came around to cup the small of your back and press you flush against his chest. You couldn’t help the small whimper you let out at his soft assault that was leaving you dizzy.

His lips parted from yours, resting for just a moment, before he lifted them fully. You kept your eyes closed, lost in thought; your first kiss, taken in secrecy by a man you barely knew yet would share the rest of your life with after tomorrow. You hadn’t hated it—no, in fact you quite liked it. You could still feel his lips on yours—slightly chapped but plush and firm.

He removed his hand from your back and stepped away from you. You heard the sound of something clicking back into place and he spoke again. “You can open them now.”

You opened your eyes. They were met with the impassive face of the silver helmet. His hand brushed down your thick braid once more. A promise of what was to come.

“Get some rest,” he said, turning to your balcony door. “You have a big day tomorrow.” Then he left just as quietly as he came.

Legs wobbling, you sat down on your bed, a hand raising to touch your lips. You shivered in the cool night air. You missed his warmth, even if it was slight, hindered by the armor. You sighed and fell back onto your bed. Thoughts of him plagued your mind and images of broad shoulders danced behind your eyelids.

You weren’t going to get much sleep tonight.

\---

The priest droned on in front of you, speaking the vows, declaring you now married. You barely listened to him. You could only focus on the man standing beside you, your smaller hand resting in his larger one. The one focal point that made heat spread all across your body, directed to between your thighs.

When the priest was done with the ceremony, there would be the feast. You would eat and dance and be merry with everyone you had ever known and it would be exhausting. And then there was the part you were most nervous for. The Cut.

The priest finished speaking and everyone around you clapped. You turned to face them, a smile on your face. A natural one, truthfully. His hand moved from clasping yours to the small of your back and an electric shock of heat traveled up your spine. You faltered just slightly before catching yourself.

You stepped down from the dais now as a married woman.

\---

Your husband studied the scissors in his hand, light glinting off the metal and the black T of his visor. You sat in the middle of the bed, hands folded in your lap, trying your best to relax your tensed shoulders. The Councilors were silent in their seats on the raised platform around the bed.

“Explain it again, please,” the _Mand’alor_ said, his helmet turning from the scissors to your face.

You swallowed. “My hair now belongs to you. Everything about me belongs to you. And now, you may decide what to do with it.” You hoped he would be kind and wouldn’t cut too much off of it. You were fond of your long hair; it was important to you.

His helmet tilted outward. “And the reason for them?”

“As witnesses,” you explained. “To the transfer.”

His helmet turned to your hair that hung in a simple, loose, ponytail down your back. You swallowed again as his hand ghosted down it, grasping it firmly at the end where it met the bedsheets. The scissors lowered. You held your breath.

 _Snip_.

Ever so carefully, he cut off a sliver of hair at the end. Murmurs broke out around you. You watched in confused silence as he tossed aside the scissors then gently set your hair back down, with an almost reverent-like care. Then he brushed a knuckle across your cheek just as he had last night.

“ _Mine_ ,” he whispered, almost imperceptible. Then you watched as he turned and left the room.

**Author's Note:**

> if you liked this, please consider leaving a kudos/comment! if you want to see more, hmu on my tumblr @/catsnkooks!!


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